CHAPTER VI.

FROM THE ZAYLA HILLS TO THE MARAR PRAIRIE.

I have now, dear L., quitted the maritime plain or first zone, to enter the

Ghauts, that threshold of the Ethiopian highlands which, beginning at Tajurrah,

sweeps in semicircle round the bay of Zayla, and falls about Berberah into the

range of mountains which fringes the bold Somali coast. This chain has been

inhabited, within History’s memory, by three distinct races,—the Gallas, the

ancient Moslems of Adel, and by the modern Somal. As usual, however, in the

East, it has no general vernacular name. 1

The aspect of these Ghauts is picturesque. The primitive base consists of

micaceous granite, with veins of porphyry and dykes of the purest white quartz:

above lie strata of sandstone and lime, here dun, there yellow, or of a dull

grey, often curiously contorted and washed clear of vegetable soil by the heavy

monsoon. On these heights, which are mostly conoid with rounded tops, joined by

ridges and saddlebacks, various kinds of Acacia cast a pallid and sickly green,

like the olive tree upon the hills of Provence. They are barren in the cold

season, and the Nomads migrate to the plains: when the monsoon covers them with

rich pastures, the people revisit their deserted kraals. The Kloofs or ravines

are the most remarkable features of this country: in some places the sides rise

perpendicularly, like gigantic walls, the breadth varying from one hundred yards

to half a mile; in others cliffs and scaurs, sapped at their foundations,

encumber the bed, and not unfrequently a broad band of white sand stretches

between two fringes of emerald green, delightful to look upon after the bare and

ghastly basalt of Southern Arabia. The Jujube grows to a height already

betraying signs of African luxuriance: through its foliage flit birds,

gaudy-coloured as kingfishers, of vivid red, yellow, and changing-green. I

remarked a long-tailed jay called Gobiyan or Fat 2, russet-hued ringdoves, the

modest honey-bird, corn quails, canary-coloured finches, sparrows gay as those

of Surinam, humming-birds with a plume of metallic lustre, and especially a

white-eyed kind of maina, called by the Somal, Shimbir Load or the cow-bird. The

Armo-creeper3, with large fleshy leaves, pale green, red, or crimson, and

clusters of bright berries like purple grapes, forms a conspicuous ornament in

the valleys. There is a great variety of the Cactus tribe, some growing to the

height of thirty and thirty-five feet: of these one was particularly pointed out

to me. The vulgar Somal call it Guraato, the more learned Shajarat el Zakkum: it

is the mandrake of these regions, and the round excrescences upon the summits of

its fleshy arms are supposed to resemble men’s heads and faces. On Tuesday the

5th December we arose at 6 A.M., after a night so dewy that our clothes were

drenched, and we began to ascend the Wady Darkaynlay, which winds from east to

south. After an hour’s march appeared a small cairn of rough stones, called

Siyaro, or Mazar4, to which each person, in token of honor, added his quotum.

The Abban opined that Auliya or holy men had sat there, but the End of Time more

sagaciously conjectured that it was the site of some Galla idol or superstitious

rite. Presently we came upon the hills of the White Ant5, a characteristic

feature in this part of Africa. Here the land has the appearance of a Turkish

cemetery on a grand scale: there it seems like a city in ruins: in some places

the pillars are truncated into a resemblance to bee-hives, in others they

cluster together, suggesting the idea of a portico; whilst many of them, veiled

by trees, and overrun with gay creepers, look like the remains of sylvan altars.

Generally the hills are conical, and vary in height from four to twelve feet:

they are counted by hundreds, and the Somal account for the number by declaring

that the insects abandon their home when dry, and commence building another. The

older erections are worn away, by wind and rain, to a thin tapering spire, and

are frequently hollowed and arched beneath by rats and ground squirrels. The

substance, fine yellow mud, glued by the secretions of the ant, is hard to

break: it is pierced, sieve-like, by a network of tiny shafts. I saw these hills

for the first time in the Wady Darkaynlay: in the interior they are larger and

longer than near the maritime regions.

We travelled up the Fiumara in a southerly direction till 8 A.M., when the

guides led us away from the bed. They anticipated meeting Gudabirsis: pallid

with fear, they also trembled with cold and hunger. Anxious consultations were

held. One man, Ali—surnamed “Doso,” because he did nothing but eat, drink, and

stand over the fire—determined to leave us: as, however, he had received a Tobe

for pay, we put a veto upon that proceeding. After a march of two hours, over

ground so winding that we had not covered more than three miles, our guides

halted under a tree, near a deserted kraal, at a place called El Armo, the

“Armo-creeper water,” or more facetiously Dabadalashay: from Damal it bore S. W.

190°. One of our Bedouins, mounting a mule, rode forward to gather intelligence,

and bring back a skin full of water. I asked the End of Time what they expected

to hear: he replied with the proverb “News liveth!” The Somali Bedouins have a

passion for knowing how the world wags. In some of the more desert regions the

whole population of a village will follow the wanderer. No traveller ever passes

a kraal without planting spear in the ground, and demanding answers to a

lengthened string of queries: rather than miss intelligence he will inquire of a

woman. Thus it is that news flies through the country. Among the wild Gudabirsi

the Russian war was a topic of interest, and at Harar I heard of a violent

storm, which had damaged the shipping in Bombay Harbour, but a few weeks after

the event.

The Bedouin returned with an empty skin but a full budget. I will offer you,

dear L., a specimen of the “palaver” 6 which is supposed to prove the aphorism

that all barbarians are orators. Demosthenes leisurely dismounts, advances,

stands for a moment cross-legged—the favourite posture in this region—supporting

each hand with a spear planted in the ground: thence he slips to squat, looks

around, ejects saliva, shifts his quid to behind his ear, places his weapons

before him, takes up a bit of stick, and traces lines which he carefully smooths

away—it being ill-omened to mark the earth. The listeners sit gravely in a

semicircle upon their heels, with their spears, from whose bright heads flashes

a ring of troubled light, planted upright, and look stedfastly on his

countenance over the upper edges of their shields with eyes apparently planted,

like those of the Blemmyes, in their breasts. When the moment for delivery is

come, the head man inquires, “What is the news?” The informant would communicate

the important fact that he has been to the well: he proceeds as follows, noting

emphasis by raising his voice, at times about six notes, and often violently

striking at the ground in front.

“It is good news, if Allah please!”

“Wa Sidda!”—Even so! respond the listeners, intoning or rather groaning the

response.

“I mounted mule this morning:”

“Even so!”

“I departed from ye riding.”

“Even so!”

“There“ (with a scream and pointing out the direction with a stick).

“Even so!”

“There I went.”

“Even so!”

“I threaded the wood.”

“Even so!”

“I traversed the sands.”

“Even so!”

“I feared nothing.”

“Even so!”

“At last I came upon cattle tracks.”

“Hoo! hoo!! hoo!!!” (an ominous pause follows this exclamation of astonishment.)

“They were fresh.”

“Even so!”

“So were the earths.”

“Even so!”

“I distinguished the feet of women.”

“Even so!”

“But there were no camels.”

“Even so!”

“At last I saw sticks”—

“Even so!”

“Stones”—

“Even so!”

“Water”—

“Even so!”

“A well!!!”

Then follows the palaver, wherein, as occasionally happens further West, he

distinguishes himself who can rivet the attention of the audience for at least

an hour without saying anything in particular. The advantage of their

circumlocution, however, is that by considering a subject in every possible

light and phase as regards its cause and effect, antecedents, actualities, and

consequences, they are prepared for any emergency which, without the palaver,

might come upon them unawares.

Although the thermometer showed summer heat, the air was cloudy and raw blasts

poured down from the mountains. At half past 3 P.M. our camels were lazily

loaded, and we followed the course of the Fiumara, which runs to the W. and S.

W. After half an hour’s progress, we arrived at the gully in which are the

wells, and the guides halted because they descried half-a-dozen youths and boys

bathing and washing their Tobes. All, cattle as well as men, were sadly thirsty:

many of us had been chewing pebbles during the morning, yet, afraid of demands

for tobacco, the Bedouins would have pursued the march without water had I not

forced them to halt. We found three holes in the sand; one was dry, a second

foul, and the third contained a scanty supply of the pure element from twenty to

twenty-five feet below the surface. A youth stood in the water and filled a

wicker-pail, which he tossed to a companion perched against the side half way

up: the latter in his turn hove it to a third, who catching it at the brink,

threw the contents, by this time half wasted, into the skin cattle trough. We

halted about half an hour to refresh man and beast, and then resumed our way up

the Wady, quitting it where a short cut avoids the frequent windings of the bed.

This operation saved but little time; the ground was stony, the rough ascents

fatigued the camels, and our legs and feet were lacerated by the spear-like

thorns. Here, the ground was overgrown with aloes7, sometimes six feet high with

pink and “pale Pomona green” leaves, bending in the line of beauty towards the

ground, graceful in form as the capitals of Corinthian columns, and crowned with

gay-coloured bells, but barbarously supplied with woody thorns and strong

serrated edges. There the Hig, an aloetic plant with a point so hard and sharp

that horses cannot cross ground where it grows, stood in bunches like the

largest and stiffest of rushes. 8 Senna sprang spontaneously on the banks, and

the gigantic Ushr or Asclepias shed its bloom upon the stones and pebbles of the

bed. My attendants occupied themselves with gathering the edible pod of an

Acacia called Kura9, whilst I observed the view. Frequent ant-hills gave an

appearance of habitation to a desert still covered with the mosques and tombs of

old Adel; and the shape of the country had gradually changed, basins and broad

slopes now replacing the thickly crowded conoid peaks of the lower regions.

As the sun sank towards the west, Long Guled complained bitterly of the raw

breeze from the hills. We passed many villages, distinguished by the barking of

dogs and the bleating of flocks, on their way to the field: the unhappy Raghe,

however, who had now become our protege, would neither venture into a

settlement, nor bivouac amongst the lions. He hurried us forwards till we

arrived at a hollow called Gud, “the Hole,” which supplied us with the

protection of a deserted kraal, where our camels, half-starved and knocked-up by

an eight miles’ march, were speedily unloaded. Whilst pitching the tent, we were

visited by some Gudabirsi, who attempted to seize our Abban, alleging that he

owed them a cow. We replied doughtily, that he was under our sandals: as they

continued to speak in a high tone, a pistol was discharged over their heads,

after which they cringed like dogs. A blazing fire, a warm supper, dry beds,

broad jests, and funny stories, soon restored the flagging spirits of our party.

Towards night the moon dispersed the thick mists which, gathering into clouds,

threatened rain, and the cold sensibly diminished: there was little dew, and we

should have slept comfortably had not our hungry mules, hobbled as they were,

hopped about the kraal and fought till dawn.

On the 6th December, we arose late to avoid the cold morning air, and at 7 A.M.

set out over rough ground, hoping to ascend the Ghauts that day. After creeping

about two miles, the camels, unable to proceed, threw themselves upon the earth,

and we unwillingly called a halt at Jiyaf, a basin below the Dobo10 fiumara.

Here, white flocks dotting the hills, and the scavengers of the air warned us

that we were in the vicinity of villages. Our wigwam was soon full of fair-faced

Gudabirsi, mostly Loajira11 or cow-herd boys, who, according to the custom of

their class, wore their Tobes bound scarf-like round their necks. They begged us

to visit their village, and offered a heifer for each lion shot on Mount

Libahlay: unhappily we could not afford time. These youths were followed by men

and women bringing milk, sheep, and goats, for which, grass being rare, they

asked exorbitant prices,—eighteen cubits of Cutch canvass for a lamb, and two of

blue cotton for a bottle of ghee. Amongst them was the first really pretty face

seen by me in the Somali country. The head was well formed, and gracefully

placed upon a long thin neck and narrow shoulders; the hair, brow, and nose were

unexceptionable, there was an arch look in the eyes of jet and pearl, and a

suspicion of African protuberance about the lips, which gave the countenance an

exceeding naivete. Her skin was a warm, rich nut-brown, an especial charm in

these regions, and her movements had that grace which suggests perfect symmetry

of limb. The poor girl’s costume, a coif for the back hair, a cloth imperfectly

covering the bosom, and a petticoat of hides, made no great mystery of forms:

equally rude were her ornaments; an armlet and pewter earrings, the work of some

blacksmith, a necklace of white porcelain beads, and sundry talismans in cases

of tarnished and blackened leather. As a tribute to her prettiness I gave her

some cloth, tobacco, and a bit of salt, which was rapidly becoming valuable; her

husband stood by, and, although the preference was marked, he displayed neither

anger nor jealousy. She showed her gratitude by bringing us milk, and by

assisting us to start next morning. In the evening we hired three fresh camels

12 to carry our goods up the ascent, and killed some antelopes which, in a stew,

were not contemptible. The End of Time insisted upon firing a gun to frighten

away the lions, who make night hideous with their growls, but never put in an

appearance.

The morning cold greatly increased, and we did not start till 8 A.M. After half

an hour’s march up the bed of a fiumara, leading apparently to a cul de sac of

lofty rocks in the hills, we quitted it for a rude zig-zag winding along its

left side, amongst bushes, thorn trees, and huge rocks. The walls of the

opposite bank were strikingly perpendicular; in some places stratified, in

others solid and polished by the course of stream and cascade. The principal

material was a granite, so coarse, that the composing mica, quartz, and felspar

separated into detached pieces as large as a man’s thumb; micaceous grit, which

glittered in the sunbeams, and various sandstones, abounded. The road caused us

some trouble; the camels’ loads were always slipping from their mats; I found it

necessary to dismount from my mule, and, sitting down, we were stung by the

large black ants which infest these hills.13

About half way up, we passed two cairns, and added to them our mite like good

Somal. After two hours of hard work the summit of this primitive pass was

attained, and sixty minutes more saw us on the plateau above the hills,—the

second zone of East Africa. Behind us lay the plains, of which we vainly sought

a view: the broken ground at the foot of the mountains is broad, and mists

veiled the reeking expanse of the low country.14 The plateau in front of us was

a wide extent of rolling ground, rising slightly towards the west; its colour

was brown with a threadbare coat of verdure, and at the bottom of each rugged

slope ran a stony water-course trending from south-west to north-east. The mass

of tangled aloes, ragged thorn, and prim-looking poison trees,15 must once have

been populous; tombs and houses of the early Moslems covered with ruins the

hills and ridges.

About noon, we arrived at a spot called the Kafir’s Grave. It is a square

enceinte of rude stones about one hundred yards each side; and legends say that

one Misr, a Galla chief, when dying, ordered the place to be filled seven times

with she-camels destined for his Ahan or funeral feast. This is the fourth stage

upon the direct road from Zayla to Harar: we had wasted ten days, and the want

of grass and water made us anxious about our animals. The camels could scarcely

walk, and my mule’s spine rose high beneath the Arab pad:—such are the effects

of Jilal 16, the worst of travelling seasons in Eastern Africa.

At 1 P.M. we unloaded under a sycamore tree, called, after a Galla chieftain17,

“Halimalah,” and giving its name to the surrounding valley. This ancient of the

forest is more than half decayed, several huge limbs lie stretched upon the

ground, whence, for reverence, no one removes them: upon the trunk, or rather

trunks, for its bifurcates, are marks deeply cut by a former race, and Time has

hollowed in the larger stem an arbour capable of containing half-a-dozen men.

This holy tree was, according to the Somal, a place of prayer for the infidel,

and its ancient honors are not departed. Here, probably to commemorate the

westward progress of the tribe, the Gudabirsi Ugaz or chief has the white

canvass turban bound about his brows, and hence rides forth to witness the

equestrian games in the Harawwah Valley. As everyone who passes by, visits the

Halimalah tree, foraging parties of the Northern Eesa and the Jibril Abokr (a

clan of the Habr Awal) frequently meet, and the traveller wends his way in fear

and trembling.

The thermometer showed an altitude of 3,350 feet: under the tree’s cool shade,

the climate reminded me of Southern Italy in winter. I found a butter-cup, and

heard a wood-pecker 18 tapping on the hollow trunk, a reminiscence of English

glades. The Abban and his men urged an advance in the afternoon. But my health

had suffered from the bad water of the coast, and the camels were faint with

fatigue: we therefore dismissed the hired beasts, carried our property into a

deserted kraal, and, lighting a fire, prepared to “make all snug” for the night.

The Bedouins, chattering with cold, stood closer to the comfortable blaze than

ever did pater familias in England: they smoked their faces, toasted their

hands, broiled their backs with intense enjoyment, and waved their legs to and

fro through the flame to singe away the pile, which at this season grows long.

The End of Time, who was surly, compared them to demons, and quoted the Arab’s

saying:—“Allah never bless smooth man, or hairy woman!” On the 8th of December,

at 8 A.M., we travelled slowly up the Halimalah Valley, whose clayey surface

glistened with mica and quartz pebbles from the hills. All the trees are thorny

except the Sycamore and the Asclepias. The Gub, or Jujube, grows luxuriantly in

thickets: its dried wood is used by women to fumigate their hair19: the Kedi, a

tree like the porcupine,—all spikes,—supplies the Bedouins with hatchet-handles.

I was shown the Abol with its edible gum, and a kind of Acacia, here called

Galol. Its bark dyes cloth a dull red, and the thorn issues from a bulb which,

when young and soft, is eaten by the Somal, when old it becomes woody, and hard

as a nut. At 9 A.M. we crossed the Lesser Abbaso, a Fiumara with high banks of

stiff clay and filled with large rolled stones: issuing from it, we traversed a

thorny path over ascending ground between higher hills, and covered with large

boulders and step-like layers of grit. Here appeared several Gudabirsi tombs,

heaps of stones or pebbles, surrounded by a fence of thorns, or an enceinte of

loose blocks: in the latter, slabs are used to make such houses as children

would build in play, to denote the number of establishments left by the

deceased. The new grave is known by the conical milk-pails surmounting the stick

at the head of the corpse, upon the neighbouring tree is thrown the mat which

bore the dead man to his last home, and hard by are the blackened stones upon

which his funeral feast was cooked. At 11 A.M. we reached the Greater Abbaso, a

Fiumara about 100 yards wide, fringed with lovely verdure and full of the

antelope called Gurnuk: its watershed was, as usual in this region, from west

and south-west to east and north-east. About noon we halted, having travelled

eight miles from the Holy Tree.

At half past three reloading we followed the course of the Abbaso Valley, the

most beautiful spot we had yet seen. The presence of mankind, however, was

denoted by the cut branches of thorn encumbering the bed: we remarked too, the

tracks of lions pursued by hunters, and the frequent streaks of serpents,

sometimes five inches in diameter. Towards evening, our party closed up in fear,

thinking that they saw spears glancing through the trees: I treated their alarm

lightly, but the next day proved that it was not wholly imaginary. At sunset we

met a shepherd who swore upon the stone20 to bring us milk in exchange for

tobacco, and presently, after a five miles’ march, we halted in a deserted kraal

on the left bank of a Fiumara. Clouds gathered black upon the hill tops, and a

comfortless blast, threatening rain, warned us not to delay pitching the Gurgi.

A large fire was lighted, and several guns were discharged to frighten away the

lions that infest this place. Twice during the night our camels started up and

rushed round their thorn ring in alarm.

Late in the morning of Saturday, the 9th December, I set out, accompanied by

Rirash and the End of Time, to visit some ruins a little way distant from the

direct road. After an hour’s ride we turned away from the Abbaso Fiumara and

entered a basin among the hills distant about sixteen miles from the Holy Tree.

This is the site of Darbiyah Kola,—Kola’s Fort,—so called from its Galla queen.

It is said that this city and its neighbour Aububah fought like certain cats in

Kilkenny till both were “eaten up:” the Gudabirsi fix the event at the period

when their forefathers still inhabited Bulhar on the coast,—about 300 years ago.

If the date be correct, the substantial ruins have fought a stern fight with

time. Remnants of houses cumber the soil, and the carefully built wells are

filled with rubbish: the palace was pointed out to me with its walls of stone

and clay intersected by layers of woodwork. The mosque is a large roofless

building containing twelve square pillars of rude masonry, and the Mihrab, or

prayer niche, is denoted by a circular arch of tolerable construction. But the

voice of the Muezzin is hushed for ever, and creepers now twine around the

ruined fane. The scene was still and dreary as the grave; for a mile and a half

in length all was ruins—ruins—ruins.

Leaving this dead city, we rode towards the south-west between two rugged hills

of which the loftiest summit is called Wanauli. As usual they are rich in

thorns: the tall “Wadi” affords a gum useful to cloth-dyers, and the leaves of

the lofty Wumba are considered, after the Daum-palm, the best material for mats.

On the ground appeared the blue flowers of the “Man” or “Himbah,” a shrub

resembling a potatoe: it bears a gay yellow apple full of brown seeds which is

not eaten by the Somal. My companions made me taste some of the Karir berries,

which in color and flavor resemble red currants: the leaves are used as a

dressing to ulcers. Topping the ridge we stood for a few minutes to observe the

view before us. Beneath our feet lay a long grassy plain-the sight must have

gladdened the hearts of our starving mules!—and for the first time in Africa

horses appeared grazing free amongst the bushes. A little further off lay the

Aylonda valley studded with graves, and dark with verdure. Beyond it stretched

the Wady Harawwah, a long gloomy hollow in the general level. The background was

a bold sweep of blue hill, the second gradient of the Harar line, and on its

summit closing the western horizon lay a golden streak—the Marar Prairie.

Already I felt at the end of my journey. About noon, reaching a kraal, whence

but that morning our Gudabirsi Abbans had driven off their kine, we sat under a

tree and with a pistol reported arrival. Presently the elders came out and

welcomed their old acquaintance the End of Time as a distinguished guest. He

eagerly inquired about the reported quarrel between the Abbans and their

brother-in-law the Gerad Adan. When, assured that it was the offspring of Somali

imagination, he rolled his head, and with dignity remarked, “What man shutteth

to us, that Allah openeth!” We complimented each other gravely upon the purity

of our intentions,—amongst Moslems a condition of success,—and not despising

second causes, lost no time in sending a horseman for the Abbans. Presently some

warriors came out and inquired if we were of the Caravan that was travelling

last evening up a valley with laden camels. On our answering in the affirmative,

they laughingly declared that a commando of twelve horsemen had followed us with

the intention of a sham-attack. This is favourite sport with the Bedouin. When

however the traveller shows fright, the feint is apt to turn out a fact. On one

occasion a party of Arab merchants, not understanding the “fun of the thing,”

shot two Somal: the tribe had the justice to acquit the strangers, mulcting

them, however, a few yards of cloth for the families of the deceased. In reply I

fired a pistol unexpectedly over the heads of my new hosts, and improved the

occasion of their terror by deprecating any practical facetiousness in future.

We passed the day under a tree: the camels escorted by my two attendants, and

the women, did not arrive till sunset, having occupied about eight hours in

marching as many miles. Fearing lions, we pitched inside the kraal, despite

crying children, scolding wives, cattle rushing about, barking dogs, flies and

ticks, filth and confinement.

I will now attempt a description of a village in Eastern Africa.

The Rer or Kraal21 is a line of scattered huts on plains where thorns are rare,

beast of prey scarce, and raids not expected. In the hills it is surrounded by a

strong fence to prevent cattle straying: this, where danger induces caution, is

doubled and trebled. Yet the lion will sometimes break through it, and the

leopard clears it, prey in mouth with a bound. The abattis has usually four

entrances which are choked up with heaps of bushes at night. The interior space

is partitioned off by dwarf hedges into rings, which contain and separate the

different species of cattle. Sometimes there is an outer compartment adjoining

the exterior fence, set apart for the camels; usually they are placed in the

centre of the kraal. Horses being most valuable are side-lined and tethered

close to the owner’s hut, and rude bowers of brush and fire wood protect the

weaklings of the flocks from the heat of the sun and the inclement night breeze.

At intervals around and inside the outer abattis are built the Gurgi or

wigwams—hemispheric huts like old bee-hives about five feet high by six in

diameter: they are even smaller in the warm regions, but they increase in size

as the elevation of the country renders climate less genial. The material is a

framework of “Digo,” or sticks bent and hardened in the fire: to build the hut,

these are planted in the ground, tied together with cords, and covered with mats

of two different kinds: the Aus composed of small bundles of grass neatly

joined, is hard and smooth; the Kibid has a long pile and is used as couch as

well as roof. The single entrance in front is provided with one of these

articles which serves as a curtain; hides are spread upon the top during the

monsoon, and little heaps of earth are sometimes raised outside to keep out wind

and rain.

The furniture is simple as the building. Three stones and a hole form the

fireplace, near which sleep the children, kids, and lambs: there being no

chimney, the interior is black with soot. The cow-skin couches are suspended

during the day, like arms and other articles which suffer from rats and white

ants, by loops of cord to the sides. The principal ornaments are basket-work

bottles, gaily adorned with beads, cowris, and stained leather. Pottery being

here unknown, the Bedouins twist the fibres of a root into various shapes, and

make them water-tight with the powdered bark of another tree.22 The Han is a

large wicker-work bucket, mounted in a framework of sticks, and used to contain

water on journeys. The Guraf (a word derived from the Arabic “Ghurfah”) is a

conical-shaped vessel, used to bale out the contents of a well. The Del, or milk

pail, is shaped like two cones joined at the base by lateral thongs, the upper

and smaller half acting as cup and cover. And finally the Wesi, or water bottle,

contains the traveller’s store for drinking and religious ablution.

When the kraal is to be removed, the huts and furniture are placed upon the

camels, and the hedges and earth are sometimes set on fire, to purify the place

and deceive enemies, Throughout the country black circles of cinders or thorn

diversify the hill sides, and show an extensive population. Travellers always

seek deserted kraals for security of encampment. As they swarm with vermin by

night and flies by day23, I frequently made strong objections to these favourite

localities: the utmost conceded to me was a fresh enclosure added by a smaller

hedge to the outside abattis of the more populous cow-kraals.

On the 10th December we halted: the bad water, the noon-day sun of 107°, and the

cold mornings—51° being the average—had seriously affected my health. All the

population flocked to see me, darkening the hut with nodding wigs and staring

faces: and,—the Gudabirsi are polite knaves,— apologised for the intrusion. Men,

women, and children appeared in crowds, bringing milk and ghee, meat and water,

several of the elders remembered having seen me at Berberah24, and the

blear-eyed maidens, who were in no wise shy, insisted upon admiring the white

stranger.

Feeling somewhat restored by repose, I started the next day, “with a tail on” to

inspect the ruins of Aububah. After a rough ride over stony ground we arrived at

a grassy hollow, near a line of hills, and dismounted to visit the Shaykh

Aububah’s remains. He rests under a little conical dome of brick, clay and wood,

similar in construction to that of Zayla: it is falling to pieces, and the

adjoining mosque, long roofless, is overgrown with trees, that rustle melancholy

sounds in the light joyous breeze. Creeping in by a dwarf door or rather hole,

my Gudabirsi guides showed me a bright object forming the key of the arch: as it

shone they suspected silver, and the End of Time whispered a sacrilegious plan

for purloining it. Inside the vault were three graves apparently empty, and upon

the dark sunken floor lay several rounded stones, resembling cannon balls, and

used as weights by the more civilised Somal. Thence we proceeded to the

battle-field, a broad sheet of sandstone, apparently dinted by the hoofs of

mules and horses: on this ground, which, according to my guides, was in olden

days soft and yielding, took place the great action between Aububah and Darbiyah

Kola. A second mosque was found with walls in tolerable repair, but, like the

rest of the place, roofless. Long Guled ascended the broken staircase of a small

square minaret, and delivered a most ignorant and Bedouin-like Azan or call to

prayer. Passing by the shells of houses, we concluded our morning’s work with a

visit to the large graveyard. Apparently it did not contain the bones of

Moslems: long lines of stones pointed westward, and one tomb was covered with a

coating of hard mortar, in whose sculptured edge my benighted friends detected

magical inscriptions. I heard of another city called Ahammed in the neighbouring

hills, but did not visit it. These are all remains of Galla settlements, which

the ignorance and exaggeration of the Somal fill with “writings” and splendid

edifices.

Returning home we found that our Gudabirsi Bedouins had at length obeyed the

summons. The six sons of a noted chief, Ali Addah or White Ali, by three

different mothers, Beuh, Igah, Khayri, Nur, Ismail and Yunis, all advanced

towards me as I dismounted, gave the hand of friendship, and welcomed me to

their homes. With the exception of the first-named, a hard-featured man at least

forty years old, the brothers were good-looking youths, with clear brown skins,

regular features, and graceful figures. They entered the Gurgi when invited, but

refused to eat, saying, that they came for honor not for food. The Hajj

Sharmarkay’s introductory letter was read aloud to their extreme delight, and at

their solicitation, I perused it a second and a third time; then having

dismissed with sundry small presents, the two Abbans Raghe and Rirash, I wrote a

flattering account of them to the Hajj, and entrusted it to certain citizens who

were returning in caravan Zayla-wards, after a commercial tour in the interior.

Before they departed, there was a feast after the Homeric fashion. A sheep was

“cut,” disembowelled, dismembered, tossed into one of our huge caldrons, and

devoured within the hour: the almost live food25 was washed down with huge

draughts of milk. The feasters resembled Wordsworth’s cows, “forty feeding like

one:” in the left hand they held the meat to their teeth, and cut off the slice

in possession with long daggers perilously close, were their noses longer and

their mouths less obtrusive. During the dinner I escaped from the place of

flies, and retired to a favourite tree. Here the End of Time, seeing me still in

pain, insisted upon trying a Somali medicine. He cut two pieces of dry wood,

scooped a hole in the shorter, and sharpened the longer, applied point to

socket, which he sprinkled with a little sand, placed his foot upon the “female

stick,” and rubbed the other between his palms till smoke and char appeared. He

then cauterized my stomach vigorously in six different places, quoting a

tradition, “the End of Physic is Fire.”

On Tuesday the 12th December, I vainly requested the two sons of White Ali, who

had constituted themselves our guides, to mount their horses: they feared to

fatigue the valuable animals at a season when grass is rare and dry. I was

disappointed by seeing the boasted “Faras”26 of the Somal, in the shape of

ponies hardly thirteen hands high. The head is pretty, the eyes are well opened,

and the ears are small; the form also is good, but the original Arab breed has

degenerated in the new climate. They are soft, docile, and—like all other

animals in this part of the world— timid: the habit of climbing rocks makes them

sure-footed, and they show the remains of blood when forced to fatigue. The

Gudabirsi will seldom sell these horses, the great safeguard against their

conterminous tribes, the Eesa and Girhi, who are all infantry: a village seldom

contains more than six or eight, and the lowest value would be ten cows or

twenty Tobes.27 Careful of his beast when at rest, the Somali Bedouin in the

saddle is rough and cruel: whatever beauty the animal may possess in youth,

completely disappears before the fifth year, and few are without spavin, or

sprained back-sinews. In some parts of the country28, “to ride violently to your

hut two or three times before finally dismounting, is considered a great

compliment, and the same ceremony is observed on leaving. Springing into the

saddle (if he has one), with the aid of his spear, the Somali cavalier first

endeavours to infuse a little spirit into his half-starved hack, by persuading

him to accomplish a few plunges and capers: then, his heels raining a hurricane

of blows against the animal’s ribs, and occasionally using his spear-point as a

spur, away he gallops, and after a short circuit, in which he endeavours to show

himself to the best advantage, returns to his starting point at full speed, when

the heavy Arab bit brings up the blown horse with a shock that half breaks his

jaw and fills his mouth with blood. The affection of the true Arab for his horse

is proverbial: the cruelty of the Somal to his, may, I think, be considered

equally so.” The Bedouins practise horse-racing, and run for bets, which are

contested with ardor: on solemn occasions, they have rude equestrian games, in

which they display themselves and their animals. The Gudabirsi, and indeed most

of the Somal, sit loosely upon their horses. Their saddle is a demi-pique, a

high-backed wooden frame, like the Egyptian fellah’s: two light splinters leave

a clear space for the spine, and the tree is tightly bound with wet thongs: a

sheepskin shabracque is loosely spread over it, and the dwarf iron stirrup

admits only the big toe, as these people fear a stirrup which, if the horse

fall, would entangle the foot. Their bits are cruelly severe; a solid iron ring,

as in the Arab bridle, embracing the lower jaw, takes the place of a curb chain.

Some of the head-stalls, made at Berberah, are prettily made of cut leather and

bright steel ornaments like diminutive quoits. The whip is a hard hide handle,

plated with zinc, and armed with a single short broad thong.

With the two sons of White Ali and the End of Time, at 8 A.M., on the 12th

December, I rode forward, leaving the jaded camels in charge of my companions

and the women. We crossed the plain in a south-westerly direction, and after

traversing rolling ground, we came to a ridge, which commanded an extensive

view. Behind lay the Wanauli Hills, already purple in the distance. On our left

was a mass of cones, each dignified by its own name; no one, it is said, can

ascend them, which probably means that it would be a fatiguing walk. Here are

the visitation-places of three celebrated saints, Amud, Sau and Shaykh

Sharlagamadi, or the “Hidden from Evil,” To the north-west I was shown some blue

peaks tenanted by the Eesa Somal. In front, backed by the dark hills of Harar,

lay the Harawwah valley. The breadth is about fifteen miles: it runs from

south-west to north-east, between the Highlands of the Girhi and the rolling

ground of the Gudabirsi Somal, as far, it is said, as the Dankali country. Of

old this luxuriant waste belonged to the former tribe; about twelve years ago it

was taken from them by the Gudabirsi, who carried off at the same time thirty

cows, forty camels, and between three and four hundred sheep and goats.

Large herds tended by spearmen and grazing about the bush, warned us that we

were approaching the kraal in which the sons of White Ali were camped; at

half-past 10 A.M., after riding eight miles, we reached the place which occupies

the lower slope of the Northern Hills that enclose the Harawwah valley. We

spread our hides under a tree, and were soon surrounded by Bedouins, who brought

milk, sun-dried beef, ghee and honey in one of the painted wooden bowls exported

from Cutch. After breakfast, at which the End of Time distinguished himself by

dipping his meat into honey, we went out gun in hand towards the bush. It

swarmed with sand-antelope and Gurnuk: the ground-squirrels haunted every

ant-hill, hoopoos and spur-fowls paced among the thickets, in the trees we heard

the frequent cry of the Gobiyan and the bird facetiously termed from its cry

“Dobo-dogon-guswen,” and the bright-coloured hawk, the Abodi or Bakiyyah29, lay

on wing high in the cloudless air.

When tired of killing we returned to our cow-hides, and sat in conversation with

the Bedouins. They boasted of the skill with which they used the shield, and

seemed not to understand the efficiency of a sword-parry: to illustrate the

novel idea I gave a stick to the best man, provided myself in the same way, and

allowed him to cut at me. After repeated failures he received a sounding blow

upon the least bony portion of his person: the crowd laughed long and loud, and

the pretending “knight-at-arms” retired in confusion.

Darkness fell, but no caravan appeared: it had been delayed by a runaway

mule,—perhaps by the desire to restrain my vagrant propensities,—and did not

arrive till midnight. My hosts cleared a Gurgi for our reception, brought us

milk, and extended their hospitality to the full limits of even savage

complaisance.

Expecting to march on the 13th December soon after dawn, I summoned Beuh and his

brethren to the hut, reminding him that the Hajj had promised me an escort

without delay to the village of the Gerad Adan. To my instances they replied

that, although they were most anxious to oblige, the arrival of Mudeh the eldest

son rendered a consultation necessary; and retiring to the woods, sat in palaver

from 8 A.M. to past noon. At last they came to a resolution which could not be

shaken. They would not trust one of their number in the Gerad’s country; a

horseman, however, should carry a letter inviting the Girhi chief to visit his

brothers-in-law. I was assured that Adan would not drink water before mounting

to meet us: but, fear is reciprocal, there was evidently bad blood between them,

and already a knowledge of Somali customs caused me to suspect the result of our

mission. However, a letter was written reminding the Gerad of “the word spoken

under the tree,” and containing, in case of recusance, a threat to cut off the

salt well at which his cows are periodically driven to drink. Then came the

bargain for safe conduct. After much haggling, especially on the part of the

handsome Igah, they agreed to receive twenty Tobes, three bundles of tobacco,

and fourteen cubits of indigo-dyed cotton. In addition to this I offered as a

bribe one of my handsome Abyssinian shirts with a fine silk fringe made at Aden,

to be received by the man Beuh on the day of entering the Gerad’s village.

I arose early in the next morning, having been promised by the Abbans grand

sport in the Harawwah Valley. The Somal had already divided the elephants’

spoils: they were to claim the hero’s feather, I was to receive two thirds of

the ivory—nothing remained to be done but the killing. After sundry pretences

and prayers for delay, Beuh saddled his hack, the Hammal mounted one mule, a

stout-hearted Bedouin called Fahi took a second, and we started to find the

herds. The End of Time lagged in the rear: the reflection that a mule cannot

outrun an elephant, made him look so ineffably miserable, that I sent him back

to the kraal. “Dost thou believe me to be a coward, 0 Pilgrim?” thereupon

exclaimed the Mullah, waxing bold in the very joy of his heart. “Of a truth I

do!” was my reply. Nothing abashed, he hammered his mule with heel, and departed

ejaculating, “What hath man but a single life? and he who throweth it away, what

is he but a fool?” Then we advanced with cocked guns, Beuh singing,

Boanerges-like, the Song of the Elephant.

In the Somali country, as amongst the Kafirs, after murdering a man or boy, the

death of an elephant is considered the act of heroism: most tribes wear for it

the hair-feather and the ivory bracelet. Some hunters, like the Bushmen of the

Cape30, kill the Titan of the forests with barbed darts carrying Waba-poison.

The general way of hunting resembles that of the Abyssinian Agageers described

by Bruce. One man mounts a white pony, and galloping before the elephant,

induces him, as he readily does, —firearms being unknown,—to charge and “chivy.”

The rider directs his course along, and close to, some bush, where a comrade is

concealed; and the latter, as the animal passes at speed, cuts the back sinew of

the hind leg, where in the human subject the tendon Achilles would be, with a

sharp, broad and heavy knife.31 This wound at first occasions little

inconvenience: presently the elephant, fancying, it is supposed, that a thorn

has stuck in his foot, stamps violently, and rubs the scratch till the sinew is

fairly divided. The animal, thus disabled, is left to perish wretchedly of

hunger and thirst: the tail, as amongst the Kafirs, is cut off to serve as

trophy, and the ivories are removed when loosened by decomposition. In this part

of Africa the elephant is never tamed.32

For six hours we rode the breadth of the Harawwah Valley: it was covered with

wild vegetation, and surface-drains, that carry off the surplus of the hills

enclosing it. In some places the torrent beds had cut twenty feet into the soil.

The banks were fringed with milk-bush and Asclepias, the Armo-creeper, a variety

of thorns, and especially the yellow-berried Jujube: here numberless birds

followed bright-winged butterflies, and the “Shaykhs of the Blind,” as the

people call the black fly, settled in swarms upon our hands and faces as we rode

by. The higher ground was overgrown with a kind of cactus, which here becomes a

tree, forming shady avenues. Its quadrangular fleshy branches of emerald green,

sometimes forty feet high, support upon their summits large round bunches of a

bright crimson berry: when the plantation is close, domes of extreme beauty

appear scattered over the surface of the country. This “Hassadin” abounds in

burning milk, and the Somal look downwards when passing under its branches: the

elephant is said to love it, and in many places the trees were torn to pieces by

hungry trunks. The nearest approaches to game were the last year’s earths;

likely places, however, shady trees and green thorns near water, were by no

means uncommon. When we reached the valley’s southern wall, Beuh informed us

that we might ride all day, if we pleased, with the same result. At Zayla I had

been informed that elephants are “thick as sand” in Harawwah: even the

Gudabirsi, when at a distance, declared that they fed there like sheep, and,

after our failure, swore that they killed thirty but last year. The animals were

probably in the high Harirah Valley, and would be driven downwards by the cold

at a later period: some future Gordon Cumming may therefore succeed where the

Hajj Abdullah notably failed.

On the 15th December I persuaded the valiant Beuh, with his two brothers and his

bluff cousin Fahi, to cross the valley with us, After recovering a mule which

had strayed five miles back to the well, and composing sundry quarrels between

Shehrazade, whose swains had detained her from camel-loading, and the Kalendar

whose one eye flashed with indignation at her conduct, we set out in a southerly

direction. An hour’s march brought us to an open space surrounded by thin thorn

forest: in the centre is an ancient grave, about which are performed the

equestrian games when the turban of the Ugaz has been bound under the Holy Tree.

Shepherds issued from the bush to stare at us as we passed, and stretched forth

the hand for “Bori:” the maidens tripped forwards exclaiming, “Come, girls, let

us look at this prodigy!” and they never withheld an answer if civilly

addressed. Many of them were grown up, and not a few were old maids, the result

of the tribe’s isolation; for here, as in Somaliland generally, the union of

cousins is abhorred. The ground of the valley is a stiff clay, sprinkled with

pebbles of primitive formation: the hills are mere rocks, and the torrent banks

with strata of small stones, showed a watermark varying from ten to fifteen feet

in height: in these Fiumaras we saw frequent traces of the Edler-game, deer and

hog. At 1 P.M. our camels and mules were watered at wells in a broad wady called

Jannah-Gaban or the Little Garden; its course, I was told, lies northwards

through the Harawwah Valley to the Odla and Waruf, two depressions in the Wayma

country near Tajurrah. About half an hour afterwards we arrived at a deserted

sheepfold distant six miles from our last station. After unloading we repaired

to a neighbouring well, and found the water so hard that it raised lumps like

nettle stings in the bather’s skin. The only remedy for the evil is an unguent

of oil or butter, a precaution which should never be neglected by the African

traveller. At first the sensation of grease annoys, after a few days it is

forgotten, and at last the “pat of butter” is expected as pleasantly as the pipe

or the cup of coffee. It prevents the skin from chaps and sores, obviates the

evil effects of heat, cold, and wet, and neutralises the Proteus-like malaria

poison. The Somal never fail to anoint themselves when they can afford ghee, and

the Bedouin is at the summit of his bliss, when sitting in the blazing sun,

or,—heat acts upon these people as upon serpents,—with his back opposite a

roaring fire, he is being smeared, rubbed, and kneaded by a companion.

My guides, fearing lions and hyenas, would pass the night inside a foul

sheepfold: I was not without difficulty persuaded to join them. At eight next

morning we set out through an uninteresting thorn-bush towards one of those

Tetes or isolated hills which form admirable bench-marks in the Somali country.

“Koralay,” a terra corresponding with our Saddle-back, exactly describes its

shape: pommel and crupper, in the shape of two huge granite boulders, were all

complete, and between them was a depression for a seat. As day advanced the

temperature changed from 50° to a maximum of 121°. After marching about five

miles, we halted in a broad watercourse called Gallajab, the “Plentiful Water”:

there we bathed, and dined on an excellent camel which had broken its leg by

falling from a bank.

Resuming our march at 5 P.M., we travelled over ascending ground which must be

most fertile after rain: formerly it belonged to the Girhi, and the Gudabirsi

boasted loudly of their conquest. After an hour’s march we reached the base of

Koralay, upon whose lower slopes appeared a pair of the antelopes called

Alakud33: they are tame, easily shot, and eagerly eaten by the Bedouins. Another

hour of slow travelling brought us to a broad Fiumara with high banks of stiff

clay thickly wooded and showing a water-mark eighteen feet above the sand. The

guides named these wells Agjogsi, probably a generic term signifying that water

is standing close by. Crossing the Fiumara we ascended a hill, and found upon

the summit a large kraal alive with heads of kine. The inhabitants flocked out

to stare at us and the women uttered cries of wonder. I advanced towards the

prettiest, and fired my rifle by way of salute over her head. The people

delighted, exclaimed, Mod! Mod!—“Honor to thee!”—and we replied with shouts of

Kulliban—“May Heaven aid ye!” 34 At 5 P.M., after five miles’ march, the camels

were unloaded in a deserted kraal whose high fence denoted danger of wild

beasts. The cowherds bade us beware of lions: but a day before a girl had been

dragged out of her hut, and Moslem burial could be given to only one of her

legs. A Bedouin named Uddao, whom we hired as mule-keeper, was ordered to spend

the night singing, and, as is customary with Somali watchmen, to address and

answer himself dialogue-wise with a different voice, in order to persuade

thieves that several men are on the alert. He was a spectacle of wildness as he

sat before the blazing fire,— his joy by day, his companion and protector in the

shades, the only step made by him in advance of his brethren the Cynocephali.

We were detained four days at Agjogsi by the nonappearance of the Gerad Adan:

this delay gave me an opportunity of ascending to the summit of Koralay the

Saddleback, which lay about a mile north of our encampment. As we threaded the

rocks and hollows of the side we came upon dens strewed with cows’ bones, and

proving by a fresh taint that the tenants had lately quitted them. In this

country the lion is seldom seen unless surprised asleep in his lair of thicket:

during my journey, although at times the roaring was heard all night, I saw but

one. The people have a superstition that the king of beasts will not attack a

single traveller, because such a person, they say, slew the mother of all the

lions: except in darkness or during violent storms, which excite the fiercer

carnivors, he is a timid animal, much less feared by the people than the angry

and agile leopard. Unable to run with rapidity when pressed by hunger, he

pursues a party of travellers stealthily as a cat, and, arrived within distance,

springs, strikes down the hindermost, and carries him away to the bush.

From the summit of Koralay, we had a fair view of the surrounding country. At

least forty kraals, many of them deserted, lay within the range of sight. On all

sides except the north-west and south-east was a mass of sombre rock and granite

hill: the course of the valleys between the several ranges was denoted by a

lively green, and the plains scattered in patches over the landscape shone with

dull yellow, the effect of clay and stubble, whilst a light mist encased the

prospect in a circlet of blue and silver. Here the End of Time conceived the

jocose idea of crowning me king of the country. With loud cries of Buh! Buh!

Buh! he showered leaves of a gum tree and a little water from a prayer bottle

over my head, and then with all solemnity bound on the turban.35 It is perhaps

fortunate that this facetiousness was not witnessed: a crowd of Bedouins

assembled below the hill, suspecting as usual some magical practices, and, had

they known the truth, our journey might have ended abruptly. Descending, I found

porcupines’ quills in abundance 36, and shot a rock pigeon called Elal-jog—the

“Dweller at wells.” At the foot a “Baune” or Hyrax Abyssinicus, resembling the

Coney of Palestine37, was observed at its favourite pastime of sunning itself

upon the rocks.

On the evening of the 20th December the mounted messenger returned, after a six

hours’ hard ride, bringing back unopened the letter addressed by me to the

Gerad, and a private message from their sister to the sons of White Ali,

advising them not to advance. Ensued terrible palavers. It appeared that the

Gerad was upon the point of mounting horse, when his subjects swore him to

remain and settle a dispute with the Amir of Harar. Our Abbans, however,

withdrew their hired camels, positively refuse to accompany us, and Beuh privily

informed the End of Time that I had acquired through the land the evil

reputation of killing everything, from an elephant to a bird in the air. One of

the younger brethren, indeed, declared that we were forerunners of good, and

that if the Gerad harmed a hair of our heads, he would slaughter every Girhi

under the sun. We had, however, learned properly to appreciate such vaunts, and

the End of Time drily answered that their sayings were honey but their doings

myrrh. Being a low-caste and a shameless tribe, they did not reply to our

reproaches. At last, a manoeuvre was successful: Beuh and his brethren, who

squatted like sulky children in different places, were dismissed with thanks,—we

proposed placing ourselves under the safeguard of Gerad Hirsi, the Berteri

chief. This would have thrown the protection-price, originally intended for

their brother-in-law, into the hands of a rival, and had the effect of altering

their resolve. Presently we were visited by two Widad or hedge-priests, Ao

Samattar and Ao Nur38, both half-witted fellows, but active and kindhearted. The

former wore a dirty turban, the latter a Zebid cap, a wicker-work calotte,

composed of the palm leaf’s mid-rib: they carried dressed goatskins, as prayer

carpets, over their right shoulders dangled huge wooden ink bottles with Lauh or

wooden tablets for writing talismans39, and from the left hung a greasy bag,

containing a tattered copy of the Koran and a small MS. of prayers. They read

tolerably, but did not understand Arabic, and I presented them with cheap Bombay

lithographs of the Holy Book. The number of these idlers increased as we

approached Harar, the Alma Mater of Somali land:—the people seldom listen to

their advice, but on this occasion Ao Samattar succeeded in persuading the

valiant Beuh that the danger was visionary. Soon afterwards rode up to our kraal

three cavaliers, who proved to be sons of Adam, the future Ugaz of the Gudabirsi

tribe: this chief had fully recognized the benefits of reopening to commerce a

highway closed by their petty feuds, and sent to say that, in consequence of his

esteem for the Hajj Sharmarkay, if the sons of White Ali feared to escort us, he

in person would do the deed. Thereupon Beuh became a “Gesi” or hero, as the End

of Time ironically called him: he sent back his brethren with their horses and

camels, and valorously prepared to act as our escort. I tauntingly asked him

what he now thought of the danger. For all reply he repeated the words, with

which the Bedouins—who, like the Arabs, have a holy horror of towns—had been

dinning daily into my ears, “They will spoil that white skin of thine at Harar!”

At 3 P.M., on the 21st December, we started in a westerly direction through a

gap in the hills, and presently turned to the south-west, over rapidly rising

ground, thickly inhabited, and covered with flocks and herds. About 5 P.M.,

after marching two miles, we raised our wigwam outside a populous kraal, a sheep

was provided by the hospitality of Ao Samattar, and we sat deep into the night

enjoying a genial blaze.

Early the next morning we had hoped to advance: water, however, was wanting, and

a small caravan was slowly gathering;—these details delayed us till 4 P.M. Our

line lay westward, over rising ground, towards a conspicuous conical hill called

Konti. Nothing could be worse for camels than the rough ridges at the foot of

the mountain, full of thickets, cut by deep Fiumaras, and abounding in dangerous

watercourses: the burdens slipped now backwards then forwards, sometimes the

load was almost dragged off by thorns, and at last we were obliged to leave one

animal to follow slowly in the rear. After creeping on two miles, we bivouacked

in a deserted cow-kraal,—sub dio, as it was warm under the hills. That evening

our party was increased by a Gudabirsi maiden in search of a husband: she was

surlily received by Shehrazade and Deenarzade, but we insisted upon her being

fed, and superintended the operation. Her style of eating was peculiar; she

licked up the rice from the hollow of her hand. Next morning she was carried

away in our absence, greatly against her will, by some kinsmen who had followed

her.

And now, bidding adieu to the Gudabirsi, I will briefly sketch the tribe.

The Gudabirsi, or Gudabursi, derive themselves from Dir and Aydur, thus claiming

affinity with the Eesa: others declare their tribe to be an offshoot from the

Bahgoba clan of the Habr Awal, originally settled near Jebel Almis, and Bulhar,

on the sea-shore. The Somal unhesitatingly stigmatize them as a bastard and

ignoble race: a noted genealogist once informed me, that they were little better

than Midgans or serviles. Their ancestors’ mother, it is said, could not name

the father of her child: some proposed to slay it, others advocated its

preservation, saying, “Perhaps we shall increase by it!” Hence the name of the

tribe. 40

The Gudabirsi are such inveterate liars that I could fix for them no number

between 3000 and 10,000. They own the rough and rolling ground diversified with

thorny hill and grassy vale, above the first or seaward range of mountains; and

they have extended their lands by conquest towards Harar, being now bounded in

that direction by the Marar Prairie. As usual, they are subdivided into a

multitude of clans.41

In appearance the Gudabirsi are decidedly superior to their limitrophes the

Eesa. I have seen handsome faces amongst the men as well as the women. Some

approach closely to the Caucasian type: one old man, with olive-coloured skin,

bald brow, and white hair curling round his temples, and occiput, exactly

resembled an Anglo-Indian veteran. Generally, however, the prognathous mouth

betrays an African origin, and chewing tobacco mixed with ashes stains the

teeth, blackens the gums, and mottles the lips. The complexion is the Abyssinian

cafe au lait, contrasting strongly with the sooty skins of the coast; and the

hair, plentifully anointed with rancid butter, hangs from the head in lank

corkscrews the colour of a Russian pointer’s coat. The figure is rather squat,

but broad and well set.

The Gudabirsi are as turbulent and unmanageable, though not so bloodthirsty, as

the Eesa. Their late chief, Ugaz Roblay of the Bait Samattar sept, left children

who could not hold their own: the turban was at once claimed by a rival branch,

the Rer Abdillah, and a civil war ensued. The lovers of legitimacy will rejoice

to hear that when I left the country, Galla, son of the former Prince Rainy, was

likely to come to his own again.

The stranger’s life is comparatively safe amongst this tribe: as long as he

feeds and fees them, he may even walk about unarmed. They are, however, liars

even amongst the Somal, Bobadils amongst boasters, inveterate thieves, and

importunate beggars. The smooth-spoken fellows seldom betray emotion except when

cloth or tobacco is concerned; “dissimulation is as natural to them as

breathing,” and I have called one of their chiefs “dog” without exciting his

indignation.

The commerce of these wild regions is at present in a depressed state: were the

road safe, traffic with the coast would be considerable. The profit on hides,

for instance, at Aden, would be at least cent. per cent.: the way, however, is

dangerous, and detention is frequent, consequently the gain will not remunerate

for risk and loss of time. No operation can be undertaken in a hurry,

consequently demand cannot readily be supplied. What Laing applies to Western,

may be repeated of Eastern Africa: “the endeavour to accelerate an undertaking

is almost certain to occasion its failure.” Nowhere is patience more wanted, in

order to perform perfect work. The wealth of the Gudabirsi consists principally

in cattle, peltries, hides, gums, and ghee. The asses are dun-coloured, small,

and weak; the camels large, loose, and lazy; the cows are pretty animals, with

small humps, long horns, resembling the Damara cattle, and in the grazing season

with plump, well-rounded limbs; there is also a bigger breed, not unlike that of

Tuscany. The standard is the Tobe of coarse canvass; worth about three shillings

at Aden, here it doubles in value. The price of a good camel varies from six to

eight cloths; one Tobe buys a two-year-old heifer, three, a cow between three

and four years old. A ewe costs half a cloth: the goat, although the flesh is

according to the Somal nutritive, whilst “mutton is disease,” is a little

cheaper than the sheep. Hides and peltries are usually collected at and exported

from Harar; on the coast they are rubbed over with salt, and in this state

carried to Aden. Cows’ skins fetch a quarter of a dollar, or about one shilling

in cloth, and two dollars are the extreme price for the Kurjah or score of

goats’ skins. The people of the interior have a rude way of tanning42; they

macerate the hide, dress, and stain it of a deep calf-skin colour with the bark

of a tree called Jirmah, and lastly the leather is softened with the hand. The

principal gum is the Adad, or Acacia Arabica: foreign merchants purchase it for

about half a dollar per Farasilah of twenty pounds: cow’s and sheep’s butter may

fetch a dollar’s worth of cloth for the measure of thirty-two pounds. This great

article of commerce is good and pure in the country, whereas at Berberah, the

Habr Awal adulterate it, previous to exportation, with melted sheep’s tails.

The principal wants of the country which we have traversed are coarse cotton

cloth, Surat tobacco, beads, and indigo-dyed stuffs for women’s coifs. The

people would also be grateful for any improvement in their breed of horses, and

when at Aden I thought of taking with me some old Arab stallions as presents to

chiefs. Fortunately the project fell to the ground: a strange horse of unusual

size or beauty, in these regions, would be stolen at the end of the first march.

1 Every hill and peak, ravine and valley, will be known by some striking

epithet: as Borad, the White Hill; Libahlay, the Lions’ Mountain; and so forth.

2 The Arabs call it Kakatua, and consider it a species of parrot. The name

Cacatoes, is given by the Cape Boers, according to Delegorgue, to the Coliphymus

Concolor. The Gobiyan resembles in shape and flight our magpie, it has a crest

and a brown coat with patches of white, and a noisy note like a frog. It is very

cunning and seldom affords a second shot.

3 The berries of the Armo are eaten by children, and its leaves, which never dry

up, by the people in times of famine; they must be boiled or the acrid juice

would excoriate the mouth.

4 Siyaro is the Somali corruption of the Arabic Ziyarat, which, synonymous with

Mazar, means a place of pious visitation.

5 The Somal call the insect Abor, and its hill Dundumo.

6 The corrupted Portuguese word used by African travellers; in the Western

regions it is called Kelder, and the Arabs term it “Kalam.”

7 Three species of the Dar or Aloe grow everywhere in the higher regions of the

Somali country. The first is called Dar Main, the inside of its peeled leaf is

chewed when water cannot be procured. The Dar Murodi or Elephant’s aloe is

larger and useless: the Dar Digwen or Long-eared resembles that of Socotra.

8 The Hig is called “Salab” by the Arabs, who use its long tough fibre for

ropes. Patches of this plant situated on moist ground at the foot of hills, are

favourite places with sand antelope, spur-fowl and other game.

9 The Darnel or pod has a sweetish taste, not unlike that of a withered pea;

pounded and mixed with milk or ghee, it is relished by the Bedouins when

vegetable food is scarce.

10 Dobo in the Somali tongue signifies mud or clay.

11 The Loajira (from “Loh,” a cow) is a neatherd; the “Geljira” is the man who

drives camels.

12 For these we paid twenty-four oubits of canvass, and two of blue cotton;

equivalent to about three shillings.

13 The natives call them Jana; they are about three-fourths of an inch long, and

armed with stings that prick like thorns and burn violently for a few minutes.

14 Near Berberah, where the descents are more rapid, such panoramas are common.

15 This is the celebrated Waba, which produces the Somali Wabayo, a poison

applied to darts and arrows. It is a round stiff evergreen, not unlike a bay,

seldom taller than twenty feet, affecting hill sides and torrent banks, growing

in clumps that look black by the side of the Acacias; thornless, with a

laurel-coloured leaf, which cattle will not touch, unless forced by famine,

pretty bunches of pinkish white flowers, and edible berries black and ripening

to red. The bark is thin, the wood yellow, compact, exceedingly tough and hard,

the root somewhat like liquorice; the latter is prepared by trituration and

other processes, and the produce is a poison in substance and colour resembling

pitch.

Travellers have erroneously supposed the arrow poison of Eastern Africa to be

the sap of a Euphorbium. The following “observations accompanying a substance

procured near Aden, and used by the Somalis to poison their arrows,” by F. S.

Arnott, Esq., M.D., will be read with interest.

“In February 1853, Dr. Arnott had forwarded to him a watery extract prepared

from the root of a tree, described as ‘Wabie,’ a toxicodendron from the Somali

country on the Habr Gerhajis range of the Goolies mountains. The tree grows to

the height of twenty feet. The poison is obtained by boiling the root in water,

until it attains the consistency of an inspissated juice. When cool the barb of

the arrow is anointed with the juice, which, is regarded as a virulent poison,

and it renders a wound tainted therewith incurable. Dr. Arnott was informed that

death usually took place within an hour; that the hairs and nails dropped off

after death, and it was believed that the application of heat assisted its

poisonous qualities. He could not, however ascertain the quantity made use of by

the Somalis, and doubted if the point of an arrow would convey a sufficient

quantity to produce such immediate effects. He had tested its powers in some

other experiments, besides the ones detailed, and although it failed in several

instances, yet he was led to the conclusion that it was a very powerful narcotic

irritant poison. He had not, however, observed the local effect said to be

produced upon the point of insertion.”

“The following trials were described:—

“1. A little was inserted into the inside of the ear of a sickly sheep, and

death occurred in two hours.

“2. A little was inserted into, the inside of the ear of a healthy sheep, and

death occurred in two hours, preceded by convulsions.

“3. Five grains were given to a dog; vomiting took place after an hour, and

death in three or four hours.

“4. One grain was swallowed by a fowl, but no effect produced.

“5. Three grains were given to a sheep, but without producing any effect.

“6. A small quantity was inserted into the ear and shoulder of a dog, but no

effect was produced.

“7. Upon the same dog two days after, the same quantity was inserted into the

thigh; death occurred in less than two hours.

“8. Seven grains were given to a sheep without any effect whatever.

“9. To a dog five grains were administered, but it was rejected by vomiting;

this was again repeated on the following day, with the same result. On the same

day four grains were inserted into a wound upon the same dog; it produced

violent effects in ten, and death in thirty-five, minutes.

“10. To a sheep two grains in solution were given without any effect being

produced. The post-mortem appearances observed were, absence of all traces of

inflammation, collapse of the lungs, and distension of the cavities of the

heart.”

Further experiments of the Somali arrow poison by B. Haines, M. B., assistant

surgeon (from Transactions of the Medical and Physical Society of Bombay. No. 2.

new series 1853-1854.)

“Having while at Ahmednuggur received from the secretary a small quantity of

Somali arrow poison, alluded to by Mr. Vaughan in his notes on articles of the

Materia Medica, and published in the last volume of the Society’s Transactions,

and called ‘Wabie,’ the following experiments were made with it:—

“September 17th. 1. A small healthy rabbit was taken, and the skin over the hip

being divided, a piece of the poisonous extract about the size of a corn of

wheat was inserted into the cellular tissue beneath: thirty minutes afterwards,

seems disinclined to move, breathing quicker, passed * *: one hour, again passed

* * * followed by * * *; has eaten a little: one hour and a half, appears quite

to have recovered from his uneasiness, and has become as lively as before. (This

rabbit was made use of three days afterwards for the third experiment.)

“2. A full-grown rabbit. Some of the poison being dissolved in water a portion

of the solution corresponding to about fifteen grains was injected into an

opening in the peritoneum, so large a quantity being used, in consequence of the

apparent absence of effect in the former case: five minutes, he appears to be in

pain, squeaking occasionally; slight convulsive retractions of the head and neck

begin to take place, passed a small quantity of * *: ten minutes, the spasms are

becoming more frequent, but are neither violent nor prolonged, respiration

scarcely perceptible; he now fell on his side: twelve minutes, several severe

general convulsions came on, and at the end of another minute he was quite dead,

the pulsation being for the last minute quite imperceptible. The chest was

instantly opened, but there was no movement of the heart whatever.

“September 20th. 3. The rabbit used for the first experiment was taken and an

attempt was made to inject a little filtered solution into the jugular rein,

which failed from the large size of the nozzle of the syringe; a good deal of

blood was lost. A portion of the solution corresponding to about two grains and

a half of the poison was then injected into a small opening made in the pleura.

Nine minutes afterwards: symptoms precisely resembling those in number two began

to appear. Fourteen minutes: convulsions more violent; fell on his side. Sixteen

minutes, died.

“4. A portion of the poison, as much as could be applied, was smeared over the

square iron head of an arrow, and allowed to dry. The arrow was then shot into

the buttock of a goat with sufficient force to carry the head out of sight;

twenty minutes afterwards, no effect whatever having followed, the arrow was

extracted. The poison had become softened and was wiped completely off two of

the sides, and partly off the two other sides. The animal appeared to suffer

very little pain from the wound; he was kept for a fortnight, and then died, but

not apparently from any cause connected with the wound. In fact he was

previously diseased. Unfortunately the seat of the wound was not then examined,

but a few days previously it appeared to have healed of itself. In the rabbit of

the former experiment, three days after the insertion of the poison in the

wound, the latter was closed with a dry coagulum and presented no marks of

inflammation around it.

“5. Two good-sized village dogs being secured, to each after several hours’

fasting, were given about five grains enveloped in meat. The smaller one chewed

it a long time, and frothed much at the mouth. He appeared to swallow very

little of it, but the larger one ate the whole up without difficulty. After more

than two hours no effect whatever being perceptible in either animal, they were

shot to get rid of them. These experiments, though not altogether complete,

certainly establish the fact that it is a poison of no very great activity. The

quantity made use of in the second experiment was too great to allow a fair

deduction to be made as to its properties. When a fourth to a sixth of the

quantity was employed in the third experiment the same effects followed, but

with rather less rapidity; death resulting in the one case in ten, in the other

in sixteen minutes, although the death in the latter case was perhaps hastened

by the loss of blood. The symptoms more resemble those produced by nux vomica

than by any other agent. No apparent drowsiness, spasms, slight at first,

beginning in the neck, increasing in intensity, extending over the whole body,

and finally stopping respiration and with it the action of the heart.

Experiments first and fourth show that a moderate quantity, such as may be

introduced on the point of an arrow, produced no sensible effect either on a

goat or a rabbit, and it could scarcely be supposed that it would have more on a

man than on the latter animal; and the fifth experiment proves that a full dose

taken into the stomach produces no result within a reasonable time.

“The extract appeared to have been very carelessly prepared. It contained much

earthy matter, and even small stones, and a large proportion of what seemed to

be oxidized extractive matter also was left undisturbed when it was treated with

water: probably it was not a good specimen. It seems, however, to keep well, and

shows no disposition to become mouldy.”

16 The Somal divide their year into four seasons:—

1. Gugi (monsoon, from “Gug,” rain) begins in April, is violent for forty-four

days and subsides in August. Many roads may be traversed at this season, which

are death in times of drought; the country becomes “Barwako “(in Arabic Rakha, a

place of plenty,) forage and water abound, the air is temperate, and the light

showers enliven the traveller.

2. Haga is the hot season after the monsoon, and corresponding with our autumn:

the country suffers from the Fora, a violent dusty Simum, which is allayed by a

fall of rain called Karan.

3. Dair, the beginning of the cold season, opens the sea to shipping. The rain

which then falls is called Dairti or Hais: it comes with a west-south-west wind

from the hills of Harar.

4. Jilal is the dry season from December to April. The country then becomes Abar

(in Arabic Jahr,) a place of famine: the Nomads migrate to the low plains, where

pasture is procurable. Some reckon as a fifth season Kalil, or the heats between

Jilal and the monsoon.

17 According to Bruce this tree flourishes everywhere on the low hot plains

between, the Red Sea and the Abyssinian hills. The Gallas revere it and plant it

over sacerdotal graves. It suggests the Fetiss trees of Western Africa, and the

Hiero-Sykaminon of Egypt.

18 There are two species of this bird, both called by the Somal, “Daudaulay”

from their tapping.

19 The limbs are perfumed with the “Hedi,” and “Karanli,” products of the

Ugadayn or southern country.

20 This great oath suggests the litholatry of the Arabs, derived from the

Abyssinian and Galla Sabaeans; it is regarded by the Eesa and Gudabirsi Bedouins

as even more binding than the popular religious adjurations. When a suspected

person denies his guilt, the judge places a stone before him, saying “Tabo!”

(feel!); the liar will seldom dare to touch it. Sometimes a Somali will take up

a stone and say “Dagaha,” (it is a stone,) he may then generally be believed.

21 Kariyah is the Arabic word.

22 In the northern country the water-proofing matter is, according to

travellers, the juice of the Quolquol, a species of Euphorbium.

23 The flies are always most troublesome where cows have been; kraals of goats

and camels are comparatively free from the nuisance.

24 Some years ago a French lady landed at Berberah: her white face, according to

the End of Time, made every man hate his wife and every wife hate herself. I

know not who the fair dame was: her charms and black silk dress, however, have

made a lasting impression upon the Somali heart; from the coast to Harar she is

still remembered with rapture.

25 The Abyssinian Brindo of omophagean fame is not eaten by the Somal, who

always boil, broil, or sun-dry their flesh. They have, however, no idea of

keeping it, whereas the more civilised citizens of Harar hang their meat till

tender.

26 Whilst other animals have indigenous names, the horse throughout the Somali

country retains the Arab appellation “Faras.” This proves that the Somal, like

their progenitors the Gallas, originally had no cavalry. The Gudabirsi tribe has

but lately mounted itself by making purchases of the Habr Gerhajis and the Habr

Awal herds.

27 The milch cow is here worth two Tobes, or about six shillings.

28 Particularly amongst the windward tribes visited by Lieut. Cruttenden, from

whom I borrow this description.

29 This beautiful bird, with a black and crimson plume, and wings lined with

silver, soars high and seldom descends except at night: its shyness prevented my

shooting a specimen. The Abodi devours small deer and birds: the female lays a

single egg in a large loose nest on the summit of a tall tree, and she abandons

her home when the hand of man has violated it. The Somal have many superstitions

connected with this hawk: if it touch a child the latter dies, unless protected

by the talismanic virtues of the “Hajar Abodi,” a stone found in the bird’s

body. As it frequently swoops upon children carrying meat, the belief has

doubtlessly frequently fulfilled itself.

30 The Bushman creeps close to the beast and wounds it in the leg or stomach

with a diminutive dart covered with a couch of black poison: if a drop of blood

appear, death results from the almost unfelt wound.

31 So the Veddahs of Ceylon are said to have destroyed the elephant by shooting

a tiny arrow into the sole of the foot. The Kafirs attack it in bodies armed

with sharp and broad-head “Omkondo” or assegais: at last, one finds the

opportunity of cutting deep into the hind back sinew, and so disables the

animal.

32 The traveller Delegorgue asserts that the Boers induce the young elephant to

accompany them, by rubbing upon its trunk the hand wetted with the perspiration

of the huntsman’s brow, and that the calf, deceived by the similarity of smell,

believes that it is with its dam. The fact is, that the orphan elephant, like

the bison, follows man because it fears to be left alone.

33 An antelope, about five hands high with small horns, which inhabits the high

ranges of the mountains, generally in couples, resembles the musk deer, and is

by no means shy, seldom flying till close pressed; when running it hops

awkwardly upon the toes and never goes far.

34 These are solemn words used in the equestrian games of the Somal.

35 Sometimes milk is poured over the head, as gold and silver in the Nuzzeranah

of India. These ceremonies are usually performed by low-caste men; the free-born

object to act in them.

36 The Somal call it Hiddik or Anukub; the quills are used as head scratchers,

and are exported to Aden for sale.

37 I It appears to be the Ashkoko of the Amharas, identified by Bruce with the

Saphan of the Hebrews. This coney lives in chinks and holes of rocks: it was

never seen by me on the plains. The Arabs eat it, the Somal generally do not.

38 The prefix appears to be a kind of title appropriated by saints and divines.

39 These charms are washed off and drunk by the people: an economical proceeding

where paper is scarce.

40 “Birsan” in Somali, meaning to increase.

41 The Ayyal Yunis, the principal clan, contains four septs viz.:—

1. Jibril Yunis. 3. Ali Yunis.

2. Nur Yunis. 4. Adan Yunis.

The other chief clans are—

1. Mikahil Dera. 7. Basannah.

2. Rer Ugaz. 8. Bahabr Hasan.

3. Jibrain. 9. Abdillah Mikahil.

4. Rer Mohammed Asa. 10. Hasan Mikahil.

5. Musa Fin. 11. Eyah Mikahil

6. Rer Abokr. 12. Hasan Waraba.

42 The best prayer-skins are made at Ogadayn; there they cost about

half-a-dollar each.

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